How to Calm an Angry King

E0022747-1902-417E-900A-351806D21F31The king took off his shoe and started pounding it on the table. “I am sick and tired of this jumble of patchwork laws that parliament has tried to foist upon my monarchy,” he bellowed. “There is no antecedent that can justify this assault on the crown!”

“You must calm down, my dear,” the queen said. “I’ve brought you a glass of warm milk to help you relax.”

“You never cease to surprise me, my darling,” the king said, kissing his wife’s hand. “How you remain so upbeat in the face of all this strife and chaos is beyond me.”

The queen stood up, winked at the king, turned her back on him, and asked, “My lord, can you help me with my zipper? And then, if you follow me to my boudoir, I’ll offer you a respite from the strife and chaos, my sire, that will make you feel quite upbeat and help you release all of your tension.”


Written for today’s Three Things Challenge from Di, aka Pensitivity101, where the three things are patchwork, milk, and shoe.

Also for these daily prompts: Ragtag Daily Prompt (jumble), Your Daily Word Prompt (antecedent), Word of the Day Challenge (queen), The Daily Spur (surprise), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (upbeat), and Daily Addictions (zipper).

The Spy Who Loved Oreos

2B846FD4-3F6A-4615-AA7A-BCA28EBC3CB2Max was a secret agent. Espionage was his game and he was very, very good at it. And he was very smart, too. One of the smartest and most ingenious spies in The Agency.

One of his ingenious inventions was a telephone that was hidden in heel and sole of his shoe. Of course, this was back in the 60s, well before the invention of today’s smartphones. Max’s shoe-phone was revolutionary, way ahead of its time.

Unfortunately for Max, he had an addiction to Oreo cookies. He would always have Oreos wherever he went and would constantly snack on them. And even though Max was so very, very good at being a spy, and even though he was one of the smartest and most ingenious agents in The Agency, his addiction to Oreo cookies was his downfall.

Poor Max gained so much weight from constantly snacking on Oreos that one day, while in heavy pursuit of a spy from the other side, he keeled over and died. In the end, it wasn’t an enemy agent who stopped him, it was his beloved Oreos.

It just goes to show you that sometimes the cream of the crop can be undone by the crème in the center.


Written for Paula Light’s Three Things Challenge, where the three things are “espionage,” “snack,” and “shoe.”

SoCS — A Hole in His Sole

F2FC3391-F53E-4A3D-BAF6-7EB1967F2939He was a very practical and pragmatic man who went to work each weekday morning. She was a very spiritual, religious woman who went to church service every weekday morning. On Sunday mornings, he would go play a round of golf. On Sunday mornings, she would go to Sunday church service.

This Sunday, when he had returned from his round of golf and she had returned from her church service, they were each dressing for that day’s traditional Sunday evening family dinner.

When he was almost finished dressing, he sighed and said aloud, “Oh God, I have a hole in my sole.”

Having heard what he said, she came up to him, sympathetically put her arm around his shoulder, and said, “My love, do not worry. Together we will get through this. Finish dressing, and meet me out front. I will take you to get your soul fixed.”

Grateful for his wife’s attentiveness, albeit a bit surprised by her sense of urgency, he walked out of the front door and stepped into the passenger seat of their car that she had at ready in their driveway.

When she pulled out of the driveway, she drove to the left. He was puzzled and turned to his wife and said, “I think you’re going the wrong way.”

“Oh no sweetheart,” she said. “This is definitely the right way.”

“No, I’m sure you’re going the wrong way,” he said. “The shoemaker’s shop is in the strip mall on the north side of town. You’re driving south.”

“The shormaker’s shop?” she said. “Oh no, I’m taking you to see Pastor James at my church.”

“Does he know how to fix soles?” he asked.

“Oh darling,” she said, “fixing souls is what he does.”

“Honey,” he said, “I think we may have a homophone problem.”

“Are you talking about that gay couple that moved into that house around the corner?” she asked. “My pastor said that those types can steal one’s soul. But that doesn’t make him a homophobe, does it?

He chuckled. “Not ‘homophobe,’ honey.” Homophone. Homophones are words that sound alike but are spelled differently and have different meanings.”

She slammed on the brakes, stopped the car, and turned toward her husband. “So are you telling me that you don’t have a hole in your spiritual soul, you have a hole in your shoe’s sole?”

“Yes, exactly,” he said.

“Oh thank God,” she said, “I’m so relieved.” She started the car, turned it around, and headed toward the strip mall on the north side of town where the shoemaker has his shop.


Written for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill. The challenge is to write a post using “soul” and/or “sole.”

Sunday Photo Fiction — The Job

img_1709“Are you sure this is the place?”

Eddie pulled a folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. “Yeah, Dwayne,” Eddie said as he read the address. “595 Canyon Road. It’s the right address.”

“This place looks like it’s been abandoned,” Dwayne said.

“This is the place,” Eddie insisted, bending down to tie his shoe lace.

“Well, okay, if you’re sure,” Dwayne said. “Hey, you got any chewing gum on you?”

Eddie grabbed a piece of gum and handed it to Dwayne. Both both men donned their rubber Richard Nixon masks and pulled out their pistols. “Let’s do this,” Dwayne said.

Eddie pushed open the rusty metal gate and the two of them climbed up onto what was once the front porch. Dwayne kicked open the door and they entered the large foyer.

The inside was a mess. There were cans, bottles, and empty cracker boxes strewn all over the floor. “What the fuck, Eddie?” Dwayne said. “This place is a pigsty. Call Horace and ask him what the deal is.”

Eddie pulled out his cellphone. “Horace, this is Eddie,” he said into the phone. “Dwayne and I are at 595 Canyon and…oh. 959 Canyon. Shit. I musta written it down wrong.”

(200 words)

Written for Susan’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt and for Teresa’s Three Things Challenge, where the things are cracker, shoe, and chewing gum. Photo credit: C.E. Ayr